Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(39)

She twisted back into the car too. “It means that as long as I still shave my hair, I’m free. See, in China, girls keep their heads bald like the boys, yeah? Then when we’re the age to become a woman, we bind our feet and grow out our hair.”

“So...” I frowned. “Does that mean you’re not a woman yet?”

“Yep.” She flashed her eyebrows and pointed down to her boots. “My feet are still big and ugly.”

I cringed. Foot-binding was a practice that seemed barbaric to my Western sensibilities. Breaking one’s foot and wrapping it so it stopped growing? Of course, if one paused to consider, was binding a woman’s waist and forcing her to stand like a camel any less barbaric?

“Why haven’t you had your feet bound?” I asked. “You’re older than me, aren’t you?”

“If I were still in China, I would’ve.” She cracked her knuckles against her jaw and stared out the window. “See, when I came to America, I was real young. My uncle had to pretend I was a boy. It was safer that way, yeah? Things here... they aren’t good for people like me, and it’s even worse out west. As a boy, my chances were better. And that way my uncle and I could both work.”

But what had happened to her uncle? I wanted to ask. In fact, I had a thousand questions I wanted to ply her with—about her past, about her culture, about her strength—but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not when her face looked so distant.

“So how did you meet Joseph?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.

“We were all three at the same saloon.”

My eyelids shot up. “A saloon?”

She chuckled and waved in Daniel’s direction. “He got cheated at cards, yeah? And a fight broke out. Joseph saw the whole thing, and when the police came, he vouched for Daniel.”

I rolled my eyes, amused. The story definitely fit with what I knew of Daniel—and I almost wished I could have seen it.

“And you?” I prodded. “What were you doing there?”

She grinned wickedly. “I was the one who cheated Daniel.”

I barked a laugh. Now I really wished I could have seen it.

“So now you see?” she asked. “With my hair like this, I’ll be free forever.” She poked at my bodice. “Why would I ever want to put this on? Squeeze my guts and deform my ribs? It’s not natural.”

I snorted. “You wouldn’t want to wear it. I certainly don’t.”

“Then why do you?”

I scrunched my forehead up at the absurdity of the question. “Because I don’t have a choice.”

She shook her head and gazed at me with sad eyes. It made me uncomfortable.

I turned away from her disappointed scrutiny and watched the Schuylkill River flowing beneath the Girard Avenue Bridge.

“Eleanor, you have a choice,” she said softly. “You always have a choice.”

Half an hour later, the Spirit-Hunters and I paraded through the arched doorways of the Mercantile Library. The moment my foot crossed into the cavernous room, calm blew over me.

Before me, the high, curved ceilings of the library rose over aisle after aisle of bookshelves. The morning sun poured in from windows spanning the entire length and height of the walls. It layered shadows over the western half of the room. A small fountain bubbled at the entrance, and the soft murmur of the library’s patrons traveled over it like a melody.

I hadn’t visited this place since Elijah had left, and I couldn’t imagine why. So many happy days had been spent here. My chest clenched with regret. I had been Elijah’s outlet from his bullies, and he had been my escape from Mama’s expectations.

Yet without Elijah in my life, I’d bowed to Mama’s demands. I had done no studying, and most of my intellectual thinking had involved coin counting and haggling.

I guided the Spirit-Hunters to a circular desk at the center of the room. After verifying my father’s subscription, the pretty, black-haired librarian slipped a brass key from her pocket.

“The entrance is there.” She pointed to a chestnut door at the back of the room. “If you wish to take any documents home, you must sign them out first.”

I took the key, and we moved through the people and shelves toward the back room. Once I’d unlocked the door, Joseph turned to Daniel.

“Take these.” Joseph slipped the brass goggles from his bag and thrust them into Daniel’s hands. He swiveled to me. “What year was your brother at school, Miss Fitt? And what was the name?”

“Germantown Academy, and he started in the mid-sixties.” I wrinkled my forehead. “Why do you ask?”

“Yearbook. I’d like to see a list of all the boys who attended, if possible.” He spoke with no hint of command, only a straightforward efficiency. Joseph had a job to do, he expected us to help, and he tolerated nothing but obedience. The Spirit-Hunters worked together like the gears of a clock—orderly and focused.

Joseph inclined his head toward Jie. “You heard Miss Fitt.”

Jie nodded and stalked off toward the bookshelves in the main room. Joseph went into the private room, and I followed.

Daniel was already inside, his lanky form draped on a ladder as he scanned the highest shelves. The square room that housed the library’s private collections was also lit by enormous windows, and the walls were lined with colorful book spines, newspapers, scrolls, and loose pages. In the center were tables and studious-looking, straight-backed chairs. It was a haven of knowledge.